


The Second First Date

by Xeldablade



Series: Love Over Logic [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crew as Family, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Star Trek Beyond Spoilers, Yorktown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeldablade/pseuds/Xeldablade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the party, everyone is celebrating Jim's birthday and the construction of the new ship. And Nyota sees a certain someone that she doesn't expect to.</p><p>It’s probably not logical for him to be prioritizing a social gathering over his work, but she doesn’t see the point in telling him something he probably already knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second First Date

Uhura knew as soon as she put those pair of boots on her feet that they would hurt like hell by the end of the day, but she decides to wear them anyways. After all, it’s not very often that she gets an excuse to dress up nicely in civilian clothes, and it’s even less often that she gets to celebrate Jim’s birthday.

She walks alone towards a room adjacent to the central plaza, where the surprise party will take place. Passing by the place where Spock and her had once stood is almost eerie, where she offered to return his mother’s necklace but he refused to take it back. It was only days ago but it feels like a lifetime. So much had changed since then, and now she doesn’t think she could give back the piece of jewelry even if she tried. On the planet it had been her only connection to him, the only thing that reminded her he wasn’t merely just a distant memory. It had given her hope, and she clung to it tightly in such a hopeless place. It had kept her grounded.

Spock won’t be at the party, she tells herself in an attempt to not get her hopes up. He has a mission report to write, in addition to his other responsibilities regarding everything from Altamid to the new ship under construction. From what she hears it’s impressive, but she hasn’t yet had the time to give it a proper inspection.

As soon as she walks through the automatic doors to the party, Scotty is there to greet her. If she had to guess by the slight stumble in his step, she’d say that he’s probably started drinking already.

“Hey, lassie! Glad ye made it. Jim’ll be here any minute.”

She goes to thank him but her voice is lost when she looks through the massive windows across the room. Outside is the construction site of the new Constitution-class starship, its structure just beginning to take shape. She could make out the lower hull, where the cargo bay and main engineering sections would be found. “Is that…?” she starts but is too awestruck finish.

“Indeed it is,” Scotty says, apparently not needing the rest of her sentence. He looks at the ship fondly. “NCC 1701-A.”

“The Enterprise,” she breathes, still incapable of believing it. Since the destruction of the original ship, this one was set to be built as its replacement. It’s strange to think that days ago she had been so jaded from being on a starship. But now, the next few years of their mission couldn’t come soon enough.

Her gaze shifts from the ship to a tall figure standing a few feet in front of her. Her heart stops. He’s not facing her, but she can clearly see pointed ears poking out from his perfectly straight black hair. It seems as though he’s able to sense her presence because he turns to look at her on his own accord without any kind of provocation. She notices a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, and she can’t help but smile back.

Spock starts to walk towards her which is good, she thinks, because she can’t exactly feel her legs at the moment. As he approaches in his ramrod straight posture, she instinctively studies the details of his face. The whites of his eyes seem slightly green, and she realizes that they must be bloodshot. His hair is arranged as perfectly as ever which isn’t at all surprising. And she’s not sure if anyone else would notice, but the tips of his ears are tinged in a light green.

He’s carrying two glasses, a fact which she doesn’t register until he’s standing right in front of her.

She can’t seem to stop smiling, so she doesn’t even try. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

He hold out one of the glasses for her. When she takes it from him her hand brushes against his, and a familiar type of warmth spreads through her. She wonders—not for the first time—if his superior Vulcan ears can hear her heart stammering in her chest.

“Doctor McCoy informed me you would be attending.”

She nods. McCoy had been the one to invite her to the party and to whom she had confirmed her participation. It was strange to think that McCoy seemed to have persuaded Spock to come, with the fact that she would be attending as an incentive, but it appeared to have work out for the best.

Someone yells nearby and disturbs her train of thought. “They’re coming!”

Everyone gathers by the entrance with a drink in hand. She looks at the group and recognizes most of the bridge crew, along with other crewmates from the Enterprise, and their spouses. Spock stands closely behind her, and she has to focus in order to think about anything other than the heat that emanates from his body.

When the doors open, they raise their glasses to the Captain and shout, “Happy birthday!”

Jim looks surprised at first, but then he’s beaming with a smile that’s bigger than what she’s seen him use in a long time. Scotty hands Jim and Leonard their own glasses as they walk in.

“Everybody,” Leonard begins, “raise a glass to Captain James T. Kirk.” Jim laughs a bit, and she realizes how much she’s missed the sound of it.

“To the Enterprise,” he toasts, which everyone mirrors. “And to absent friends.”

She hears others say cheers around her, and they all drink together. Jim walks off to talk with some of the crewmembers, and Uhura finds Spock and herself in their own company.

She stares at the floor and tries to think of what to say. There’s too many things she wants to talk about but she can’t find the words for most of them, so she decides to start simple. “I thought you had to finish your mission report.”

When she looks at him, his eyes hold hers with that intensity of his that is rare in the presence of others, but today seems like it’s a special occasion. “I do. But I thought it would be more pleasing to engage with you socially.”

Coming from a Vulcan, it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever said. His answer is flooded with emotion that others probably don’t even notice. But his eyes are sincere, which tells her more than any of his words ever could. And it’s probably not logical, prioritizing a social gathering over his work, but she doesn’t see the point in telling him that when he most likely already knows.

She can’t help but smile as heat rushes to her cheeks and she fiddles with the necklace that rests on her chest. “You old romantic.”

He tilts his head, like he always does when he takes an earth phrase too literally. She shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink to keep from giggling and confusing him further.

He takes a drink as well and she notices his glass is almost empty. She holds out her hand for it. “I can fill that up for you.”

“You do not need to-”

“No really,” she says, taking the glass from his hand anyways. “I owe you one.”

He nods courteously. “Very well.”

She forces her eyes to leave his and she heads to the bar. While she waits for them to be refilled, she looks around at her crewmates and how happy they all look. Apart from Jaylah, who has several alcoholic beverages on the table in front of her, everyone seems relaxed, but not in a bored way like it was a few days ago. Sulu is using his hands to help tell what seems to be an exciting story to Ben, Chekov is attempting to chat up a woman he probably just met, and Scotty is talking to Keenser, probably about the schematics of the new ship.

It’s difficult to describe, but in this moment she can’t help but feel at peace. The people that she cares about most, save her family back on earth, are safe and here with her, none but more than a few steps away from where she stands. Contentment seems to be contagious, and she embraces the feeling like an old friend that’s been missing for awhile now.

Everything seems right now, like the bad that has happened over the past few days was necessary to appreciate the good. And despite their misfortunes and personal losses, she knows that the friends she has the privilege of working with again will triumph. That they will never stop trying to achieve peace amongst themselves and relations with others, because it’s what they all believe in, and what Starfleet is all about. Admiration grows inside her for these people, and it’s something she feels both lucky and proud to be a part of.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the bartender tapping her shoulder. She thanks him and takes the drinks, attempting to locate Spock, already finding herself missing him. She finds him on the other side of the room with Jim and Leonard, staring up at the new ship. She almost laughs—they look like little kids, gawking intently at an unfinished starship like that. But it’s not like she can blame them; it is an impressive sight, one that she’s sure she’ll look at countless times before its deployment into space.

She walks up beside Spock and sets his drink down on the table in front of them. When they look at each other, she is once again remarkably aware of her own heartbeat. She gives him another smile and joins the others in watching the new Enterprise being built, silently hoping that its construction would go faster.

The cosmopolis of Yorktown was undeniably impressive in many regards, but it wasn’t perfect. So as the evening went by, filled with drinking and laughter and an abundance of talking, Uhura had finally figured out one of its flaws: there was no sunset. Instead of a brilliant display of orange and red hues stretching out over the horizon, night was simulated by the increasing translucence of the spherical surface that surrounded them. It was a slow transition, and she doubted anybody else around her had even noticed the absence of any aberrant colors, but she felt a bit unsatisfied nonetheless.

She had spent most of the party at Spock’s side, trading stories with her coworkers about everything from academy experiences to their excitement to see the what lies beyond the nebula. But when Spock is pulled aside by a Starfleet official to discuss work, she finds herself sitting beside Hikaru and Ben, who soon excuse themselves from the table in favor of the dance floor. They abandon their glasses in her company, the table now scattered with them.

She hasn’t been sitting alone for long when she hears a familiar voice from behind as she watches the other couples dance to the music.

“That’s a lot of drinks for one woman.” She turns to find the source of the voice and is unsurprised to see Jim pulling out the chair next to her and sitting down.

She smiles at the remark, remembering long ago when they first met, before they even knew each others names. It was bizarre to think how much had changed from then to now. She nods her head to where Spock is standing. “Shouldn’t you be helping him out with work?”

Jim waves off the suggestion. “Nah, I’ll let him handle it for now. I trust him. Besides, no one should have to work on their birthday.”

“I’ve always had to work on _my_ birthday.”

He thinks for a moment and raises his glass to his lips. “You must have had a pretty shitty boss, then.”

She put her hands up innocently. “You said it.”

They both laugh, and she observes how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Maybe it’s the buzz from all the alcohol they’ve both had, but he seems so much younger now than he has in a long time, almost like back at that bar in Iowa. Just the same old Jim, she thinks. Once she would have found his presence bothersome, but now she feels comforted by it and grateful to be able to serve under him.

He joins her in watching the crowd, taking interest in the youngest member of the crew. “Chekov sure does look like he’s having a good time.”

When she locates him, he’s talking enthusiastically to a tall woman with gray skin and jet black hair. “Drinking, flirting with women he’s never met…sound like anybody you know?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Really. Not at all?”

“Not unless he gets into a valiant bar fight with a few cadets.”

“ _Valiant?_ ” She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Well I think you’re out of luck. Because at least he doesn’t attempt to intimidate people by giving them nicknames after baked goods.”

“Hey, I didn’t _attempt_ to do anything, because it actually _worked_.” They both laugh because it’s the truth. “Anyways, he’s not exactly like I was. At least he’ll be leaving with someone tonight.”

She stares at him for a moment and speaks in a deadpan tone. “Are you joking?”

“Why not?” He gestures towards the ensign. “Pavel’s a great guy!”

“Yeah, I agree with you there but…trying to woo people with fake facts about Russia? May not be the smoothest course of action.”

He shrugs. “Better than real facts about Iowa.”

She thinks it’s a joke but he seems serious. “Did you actually do that?”

“Did you know,” he starts in a seductive voice as he looks into her eyes, “that Iowa is the only state whose east and west borders are formed entirely by water?”

It’s not what he says, but the _way_ he says it that makes her start to understand. She has to admit that it worked better than she expected it to, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “But it’s not like that really works, right?”

“I don’t know, baby,” he says as he waggles his eyebrows, “You tell me.”

“Nope, it doesn’t work.”

“Oh, come on. You’re the one who was seduced by a Vulcan. What did he do that was so much better? Whisper calculus equations into your ear? Write a poem about the ico-spectrogram readings of dilithium ore?”

She chuckles because it’s not an entirely wrong assumption. She thinks back to their first dates, when those types of conversations wouldn’t even be that unexpected. They had talked about Starfleet, their primary languages, where they grew up, new components being implemented in the construction of starships; topics that she found so fascinating that she often forgot she was on a date. But in the pauses of their discussions and when she looked into his chocolate brown eyes, she would feel the butterflies that flew around her stomach, which had been showing up with increasing regularity. And she’d have a smile that she could never seem to suppress.

It is a similar sensation to now, which triggers just from watching him speak with his colleagues about ten feet away. There’s something warm that bubbles in her stomach and she’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the alcohol she’s been drinking.

Jim looks like he’s thinking something through before looking at her again. “I bet you a drink that Chekov leaves with someone tonight.”

She glances between the ensign and Jim, who has a smug look on his face that she just can’t ignore. “You’re on.”

They shake on it.

“Nyota,” Spock’s voice says suddenly and she jumps, unsure of when his other conversation ended and when he had gotten so close. “Would you be amenable to participate in a formal recreational dance with me as my partner?”

Her eyes grow wide with pleasurable shock. The last time she had danced with Spock had been years ago, after the rechristening ceremony of the Enterprise. That had been a more formal affair, so his propriety now is unnecessary, yet characteristic for him.

“If you don’t mind,” she says to Kirk as she stands, taking Spock’s hand.

“By all means,” he says as he gestures to where the other couples are dancing.

Her heart rate has quickened again and she thinks she’s nervous, but that’s not really surprising because he occasionally tends to have that effect on her. He leads her into the crowd and she wonders if he notices how sweaty her hands feel like they are. When he finds a place that is satisfactory, he takes her right hand in his left and he holds her waist wit the other. Her left hand is on the back of his neck so that his hair tickles her fingers.

“I thought you didn’t like to dance,” she said, incapable of looking away from him.

“I am not particularly fond of the avocation,” he says as he squeezes her hand just enough that she notices, “but you are.”

She smiles widely at him, remembering the last time they had danced together. He may not be the best dancer but he’s good at following directions when you tell him where to step and when. At the very least he tries, and that’s good enough for her. His body is stiff but his eyes are warm, the softness of his gaze surrounding her in a way that makes her wish that she would never have to let go.

There’s comfort in the fact that she doesn’t have to let go, at least not right now, so she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes as they sway to the music. There’s so much she wants to say to him but she can’t formulate the words, so her current proximity to him will suffice.

She feels his lips touch her forehead. There’s something about their physical adjacency that makes her appreciate him so much more. She had thought about him a great deal on Altamid, but she wouldn’t let herself think about missing him. The most she had of him was his mother’s necklace, but it had to be enough. The crew had needed her, and she couldn’t afford to worry about things that she had no way of controlling.

But now those emotions are flooding her thoughts and hitting her like a storm. Feeling the heat of his skin against hers feels impossible, almost too good to be true. It’s difficult to imagine a scenario where McCoy hadn’t ended up on the surface of the planet with him, where he inevitably would have bled to death. And the last time she would have seen him was when the turbolift doors closed, shutting him out from her vision as the Enterprise was being ripped apart.

But he’s here, and he’s alive. She can feel his breath brush against her cheeks and watch as strands of her hair float around delicately when he exhales. She positions her head to watch as his lungs expand and contract. She wants to feel his heart beat but she’s not sure if it still hurts him and now doesn’t feel like a good time to ask. But it doesn’t matter because no matter what she does to ensure that he is in fact here with her, it will never be enough.

“Nyota,” he says softly and pauses. She loves the way he says her name, like a beloved secret. Like it’s for her ears only and its far too precious for his own lips to formulate ungraciously. “The time I have spent without you in my immediate presence recently has proven to be rather difficult.”

She nods against him. “I feel the same way.”

“In light of recent events, I hope to be able to take more frequent respites in work duties once the demand for my presence begins to diminish.”

She squeezes his hand. “As do I.”

“Furthermore,” he continues, “I am immensely pleased to be in your company tonight. I find your companionship to be truly satisfactory and gratifying. If you would be amenable, then perhaps in the future-”

“Spock,” she interrupts, making him stop mid-sentence. She pulls away from his shoulder just enough to look at him. He’s not smiling but he looks like he could be and she decides it doesn’t really matter because she’s smiling big enough for the both of them. “I love you, too.”

She places her hand on the back of his head, pulling his face down to hers. His lips are even softer than his eyes. She’s noticed that he’s always been tender with her, and this kiss is no different. It feels like fire is running through her veins and her mind is foggy. He tastes of alcohol, but his unassailable passion is proof that the beverage has not impeded his ability to make her heart race. He tugs gently at her bottom lip and she leans in closer. His right hand migrates from her waist to the back of her neck, over the thin chain that sits on her neck. The music that is playing around them becomes distant and for a moment, they’re the only two people in the galaxy.

She pulls away from him slightly and opens her eyes when she manages to hear an obtrusive wolf-whistle. When she finds its source, she sees Jim along with the rest of the bridge crew off to the side, watching her and Spock intently. There’s a lot of approving nods and Leonard raises a glass in their direction. Even Chekov had apparently taken a break from his flirting routine to join the others in their supposed merriment.

Jim is whispering something to Scotty and she’s about to read his lips when Spock stands in front of her to obscure his coworkers’ view of the osculation and then he’s kissing her again.

Social gatherings were never Spock’s forte, so after a few more songs she can tell by his posture that he’s ready to leave. She looks around for Jim to say goodbye and wish him a happy birthday one last time, and she just catches sight of Pavel leaving with the same gray girl he had been chatting with before. Uhura had to admit—she was kind of impressed.

So by the time she finds Jim talking with a few other crewmembers, she already has a drink in her hand to give him. He accepts it triumphantly, and she thinks about how she doesn’t lose bets very often, and maybe she should be more upset about it.

After all, Jim would probably be rubbing this one in for awhile, she was down a few more credits now, and her feet really did hurt like hell just like she predicted they would. But as she grabs Spock’s hand and they head out into the artificial night, she finds that she can’t be too bothered by any of it.

Because Chekov isn’t the only one going home with someone tonight.


End file.
